


I see you

by adelegrey



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelegrey/pseuds/adelegrey
Summary: Drabble based on THAT scene in Season 3, Episode 13 (Eye of the Storm) where Lord John gives the smackdown to Lieutenant Leonard for trying to arrest Jamie for treason. What if seeing Lord John in full-on badass (I mean, cough cough, governor) mode made Jamie see him in a different light and force him to reassess what he feels for him? Badly written sexytimes then ensure. Lol.
Relationships: Jamie Fraser/Lord John Grey
Comments: 17
Kudos: 138





	I see you

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to Charlotte Bronte for shamelessly using and twisting her lines from Jane Eyre. Love is love. <3

Lord John Grey was a force of nature. Jamie wondered why he had never seen it before. His breath caught uncomfortably in his throat as he caught a glimpse of what Lord John carefully concealed beneath the exquisitely tailored attire. 

Jamie was reminded suddenly of the tale told him, when he was naught but a lad by a MacKenzie clansman who had sailed to the Mughal empire with the Dutch East India Company. He had listened, rapt, to the tale of the tiger, a devourer of men, a wild beast of the jungle with a mesmerising coat of rippling stripes. As the tiger hid in plain sight amidst the light and shadow, so too did the new governor of Jamaica disguise himself beneath the wigs, the ribbons and lace cuffs, the frippery and civilised veneer of the English aristocracy, Jamie thought wryly. 

Even long ago at Ardsmuir, during the wary first years of their acquaintance, Jamie had noticed that men naturally gravitated towards John for leadership. He had always seen clearly that John was a leader of men, not governing through coercion or brute intimidation. Men followed Lord John Grey because they loved and respected him. Jamie knew all this on an abstract level, but at Ardsmuir and at Helwater, the relationship between the two men had always been on uneasy and unequal footing. Here now, in Jamaica, Jamie and John were equals, and for this reason Jamie could not help seeing John without prejudice or predisposition. He could see, clear as daylight, the true man that John was hiding beneath the multitude of masks he wore – younger son of the Duke of Pardloe, brother of Lord Melton, former governor of Ardsmuir, husband to Isobel Dunsany, guardian to the Earl of Ellsmere, and now– governor of Jamaica. Jamie did not want to see John Grey any differently than he had always done. He intensely disliked the strange tendrils of feelings that this realisation roused in his breast. 

Or perhaps such sentimentality was merely due to the turmoil of the past few hours. Being arrested for treason and pursuant trial and near-certain hanging would be shock enough for most men. Jamie shook his head, as if to clear the disconcerting thoughts from his mind. Lord John was here, and all would be set to rights. 

He sat in Lord John’s study, silently observing the heated exchange between Lord John and Lieutenant Leonard of the Porpoise. His eyes flickered back and forth between Lord John, seated behind his desk, and the increasingly mulish expression on the young naval officer’s face standing there for all the world like a schoolboy receiving a tongue-lashing from his tutor. 

Lord John stood, bringing the interview to a close. “Until such time as I am satisfied as to the validity of this alleged warrant, this man will retain his liberty.”

“Your Excellency-”, interjected the Lieutenant, in a final attempt to regain his prisoner. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant Leonard”, Lord John said dismissively. 

The naval officer cleared his throat, defeated, bowed and retreated from the study. 

Lord John tilted his head towards Jamie and his mouth quirked slightly as he visibly relaxed, shedding the mantle of governor as easily as Jamie had discarded his coat earlier that evening. The blazing fire in his eyes that Jamie had seen displayed earlier was banked now, turning the previously-severe expression on John’s face into something indescribably warm and soft as he looked to Jamie. Jamie had seen that same look many a time before in Claire’s eyes, and like a moth drawn to the flames, Jamie felt a familiar, yet unwanted, sharp pull of desire in his groin and inexplicable, choking emotion somewhere deep within him that he could not suppress. Swallowing, he got on his feet and thanked John. “Seems like I’m indebted to you yet again for saving my life.”

Lord John approached Jamie. “Seems like we’ve been indebted to each other so many times I lost count.”

Jamie’s mouth twitched amusedly as he leaned against the mahogany desk next to John. “I ken you took a great deal of pleasure in that, my lord. I know I enjoyed watching you give that stripling his comeuppance.” 

John’s eyes widened for a second, surprised and slightly abashed, and then he threw his head back and laughed loudly at being caught out. “Guilty as charged, unlike you, might I add. You know me too well, Jamie Fraser.” 

Jamie said nothing for a moment, immobilized by the turbulent feelings within his chest. An awkwardness hung in the air, and John, ever the consummate gentleman, filled the silence. “Jamie…” One simple word that said nothing at all, yet at the same time said far too much. 

Mind made up, Jamie turned away. He walked to the door and turned the key in the lock. The harsh grating noise the key made as it slid home sounded loudly obscene in the quiet room. Jamie turned back to John, his face impassive and unreadable as he stepped closer to John, closer than was deemed polite by society, even for close friends. 

Jamie gently raised his hand to touch the side of John’s face. His fingers trembled only a little. “I ken you too well, John Grey. I see you.”

John paused, blinking as he absorbed the intensity of emotion in Jamie’s words. And then a gentle smile stole across his face, slowly and languorously, like the bright sun emerging after a rolling Highland storm. “Finally, Jamie Fraser, at last,” was all he said. 

John stayed almost impossibly still, hardly daring to breathe, as Jamie moved closer – and closer still, as if afraid that the slightest movement would break the spell that had fallen over the room. John had seen the scars on Jamie’s back, but he had no knowledge of the invisible horrors and lasting wounds committed by Black Jack Randall. Still, he knew Jamie well enough to know that he had to let Jamie take the lead. 

Was it possible to love two people at once, Jamie thought bemusedly as he tentatively pulled John to him and claimed John’s mouth (a mouth that, if Jamie was honest with himself he had thought more than once over the years, looked almost obscene on a man). Embracing John was not at all like lying with Claire. Despite the ostentatious foolishness that passed for English fashion, John was wholly and unequivocally male – hard and strong and warm in the places where Claire had been soft and yielding. John quivered but remained silent as Jamie loosened John’s cravat, cursing slightly as the lace ripped slightly before he tossed it onto the floor. Jamie was intoxicated by the contrast as he inhaled as he nuzzled the side of John’s neck, smelling bergamot, spice and a maleness that was uniquely John. He couldn’t help it and licked a path up to the hollow behind John’s ear. A stifled groan escaped John’s lips. 

Jamie shoved John back, almost cruelly, against the desk, uncaring that the harsh edge of the wood bit into John’s hip. He slowly unbuttoned began undoing the buttons of John’s waistcoat, as John panted, breathless, as he stared intently at Jamie’s callused hands. 

“Out there, ye are the master of men. Ye hide behind your English title and your riches and ye use your talented tongue to keep the world at bay. But here, just the two of us, I ken and I see ye, John.”

John closed his eyes briefly, as if overcome with emotion. He opened them and stared steadfastly at Jamie. 

“Don’t you know, James Fraser? I see you too. I fancy I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And when we were parted, I felt as if that cord of communion would snap. And I had the notion that I was bleeding inwardly. All these years, I fought the connection between us with all that I have, as a soldier and an Englishman, but it turns out I am utterly defenceless when it comes to you. You bring me to my knees.”

His words struck Jamie’s heart like the fall of an ax, and Jamie was helpless to resist. He placed his left palm and spread his fingers on John’s chest, pushing John further against the desk, the motion causing John’s wig to fall off unceremoniously and sending carefully ordered papers and quills flying.

John felt his heart constrict painfully as he saw Jamie’s cheeks flush red, the look of shyness so incongruous yet endearing on the Highlander. Jamie’s right hand came down by John’s groin, undoing his breeches, fumbling a little at the unfamiliar fastenings. Jamie quickly spat in his palm and grasped John’s hard cock in a firm caress. John bit his lip, swallowing a gasp, almost overcome with feeling of Jamie’s warmth on him; he saw, but did not care, that a dark pool of liquid was slowly spilling out from the tipped-over inkwell onto the scattered pile of parchments. It would undoubtedly create an unholy mess for his secretary to clean up the next day, John thought distractedly as the scent of ink and dusty paper filled John's senses, mingling with the smell of sweat and arousal and Jamie...

Jamie was fascinated by the small sounds of pleasure that John made as Jamie pumped his cock firmly and surely. The way that John felt in his arms, the way John’s body responded to Jamie as he neared the oncoming crisis was unfathomably so much akin to being with Claire that Jamie marvelled at finding the same connection with a man. The rightness of being here with John was overwhelming, and Jamie felt a hithertofore unacknowledged weight leaving his soul. He had thought that a part of him had died in Wentworth all those years ago, but John had thrown open the locks of the prison cell in his mind and shown him that he was, indeed free and alive. 

John’s breath came out in a rapid exhalation as Jamie removed his slick hand from John’s hard cock. Jamie watched, curious, as a small thread of moisture gathered on the tip of John’s cock and sticking slightly to Jamie’s hand, then broke as Jamie moved his hand away. 

“Jamie,” John said, making as if to get to his knees. “Let me be of service to you.”

Jamie caught John’s arm and pulled him back up. He shook his head. “I want to take ye, if I may.”

John nodded. In other encounters with gentlemen of the same persuasion, he was predisposed to be the one committing the act of buggery, but with his Jamie, he would consent to anything, such was the depth of his desire for this magnificent man. 

Jamie gently pushed John’s breeches down. He gave John a fast and harsh twist and pull of his hand that had John struggling at the unexpected sensation. 

“Turn around”, Jamie said. It was half-request, half-order. John obliged wordlessly, laying his upper half flat against the desk; his eyes slid closed as he felt the first tentative touch of Jamie’s fingers along the crease of his behind, gradually gaining boldness, probing and then breeching his passage. Jamie hesitated as John winced at the intrusion. 

“It’s fine, Jamie.” John reached over the desk and retrieved a small bottle of oil from the drawer. He turned around halfway to hand the vial to Jamie, whose eyebrows raised high enough to be hidden by the mop of fiery red hair. 

Jamie teased, suppressing a laugh, “I won’t ask why you have this bottle in your desk, John.”

John smiled enigmatically but made no other reply. 

Jamie’s oil-slicked fingers slipped easily in, first one, then two, and three. John’s hands curled, slippery with sweat, holding tightly on the side of the desk as he became nothing more than a mass of trembling nerves, an instrument to be played with instinctive skill by Jamie. 

“I never thought I could quiet your talented tongue and quick mind, John.” Jamie’s voice was warm with affection and gruff with suppressed desire. John heard the rustle of discarded clothing, then he felt a heated bluntness pushing against his rear side, demanding ingress. Jamie slowly lowered himself, his chest to John’s back, and the heat and weight and sheer feeling of him took John’s breath away.  
As Jamie braced one hand against the table, he pushed slowly and carefully, mindful that John was tighter than a woman would have been. As he slid in, inch by inch, he exhaled, reveling in the sensation of being inside John. It felt impossibly good and he could not stop himself from pumping his hips slightly. John’s quiet gasp of pleasure spurred him on and he reached down with his right hand and took hold of John’s erection, which had not flagged, despite the pain he must have felt. As Jamie withdrew slightly from John’s body, John made a soupcon of protest which quickly turned into a loud groan as Jamie thrust back in and out, fisting John’s cock rapidly at the same time. 

Jamie felt every spasm of John’s body beneath him, and suddenly it was too much. He felt his release overtake him and he spent inside John, harder than he had ever done with Claire. He felt John shudder and cry out. A warm wetness coated his fist. As Jamie’s legs threated to give way from under him, he rested for a moment on top of John’s limp body. He pressed a kiss to the nape of John’s neck, both his body and heart still and content. 

“Tell me it’s a dream, Jamie. I shall be devastated if I wake up to find ‘tis but a dream”, murmured John softly. 

“It’s nae dream.” Jamie confessed, “All this time, ye ken me better than I ken myself, but I ken ye now, in body and mind and soul, Lord John Grey.”


End file.
